


Five Times Pitch Was Patient and the One Time He Was Like Fuck It

by Eien_Ni



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Almost porn, Black Ice - Freeform, BlackIce, Fluff, M/M, Shadows and Light series, inspired by Shadows and Light series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 05:18:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eien_Ni/pseuds/Eien_Ni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five different times that Pitch folded his clothes, and the one time he was too distracted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Pitch Was Patient and the One Time He Was Like Fuck It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [not_poignant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_poignant/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Into Shadows We Fall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/766729) by [not_poignant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_poignant/pseuds/not_poignant). 



> This story evolved from a conversation Pia and I were having on my [tumblr](http://drowning-inthe-feels.tumblr.com/), about how Pitch folded his clothes despite a naked Jack Frost waiting on his bed. I wrote this at 1:30 in the morning, and many thanks to [Zinfandel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Zinfandel) for beta-ing!

Pitch was a patient man when it came to sexual things. He enjoyed taking his time, drawing the pleasure out. He liked to tease and seduce. Jack, on the other hand, was not so patient, a fact which greatly amused Pitch. Pitch had to admit that there were times he deliberately took his time just to frustrate Jack.

One thing that got under Jack's skin was Pitch's penchant for folding his clothes after stripping out of them. Whereas Jack would simply leave his hoodie and pants lying on the floor wherever they landed, Pitch went to great lengths to neatly fold his robe, shirt, and pants. It was something that had been ingrained in him since he was a Golden Warrior. His uniform had had to be neat, not a wrinkle or thing out of place.

That habit had stuck.

Even in the bedroom.

Especially in the bedroom.

+

1)

Pitch watched from the shadows as Jack and Mora tumbled through the air around Jack’s home. They were playing some version of tag, with Jack leaving frost spirals on Mora whenever he touched her, the frost sparkling in the sunlight. He chuckled. Cold and dark went together quite nicely.

Jack, having caught sight of Pitch, waved to him before racing to his side. “Hey,” he said, a bit breathless. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Pitch smiled, and threaded his fingers through Jack’s hair. “Surprise.”

Jack gave a smile of his own before narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Okay, what’s this all about? Whenever I leave, you always wait for me to come back. But now you come to find me, so what’s up with that?”

Pitch knew that Jack wasn’t irritated with him for seeking him out, just puzzled and curious as to the reason. “Is it a crime to want to see you?” He asked, ducking his head to mouth at the side of Jack’s neck. “Because if it is, you could try to arrest me and cuff me.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, _try_?”

Pitch chuckled. “I think we both know who is more likely to be tied up and enjoying it.” He smirked at the flush that spread across Jack’s face.

“Oh, God,” Jack said faintly. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? I knew that sex was all you ever thought about.”

Pitch didn’t bother replying to that. He just pulled Jack closer and teleported them into the bedroom, kissing Jack as soon as their feet were on the floor. He thought he heard Jack mumble something that sounded a lot like ‘sex addict,’ but he chose to ignore that in favor of dragging Jack’s hoodie up. Dropping to his knees, he licked his way up Jack’s chest, flicking his tongue over Jack’s nipple, enjoying the small shudder that coursed through Jack’s body.

Within a few minutes, both of them were naked, and Pitch gave Jack a gentle push towards the bed, watching as he obeyed the subtle hint and climbed onto it. Pitch then bent down and picked up his shirt, shaking it out before carefully folding it, then doing the same with his pants.

“Pitch?” Jack asked as he glanced over his shoulder, clearly wondering why Pitch wasn’t there. He groaned. “Oh, my God. Seriously?”

Pitch just continued to fold his clothing, setting them neatly aside when he was done. “Clothes become wrinkled if you just let them stay on the floor,” he said with a pointed look at Jack’s clothes.

“Right, because my hoodie and pants getting wrinkled is what I’m always worried about when I’m in the bedroom with you.”

Pitch gave a long-suffering sigh. He didn’t expect Jack to understand, but Jack had to realize that this was a part of who Pitch was, a part that likely wouldn’t change.

+

2)

“Oh, God,” Jack panted, closing his eyes as Pitch sealed his lips over the scar given to him by the Nain Rouge.

Pitch hummed in agreement, smiling as Jack’s hips jerked forwards, searching for friction. Trailing a hand down, he pressed on Jack’s length, and was awarded with a breathy moan. Jack’s nails dug into Pitch’s back.

“More.”

Pitch slowly undressed Jack, taking his time. He laved Jack’s skin with his tongue, trailed fingertips down his sides. He licked down to his navel before sliding back up to kiss Jack, who was tugging impatiently on Pitch’s undershirt.

He stripped quickly, then took his time folding the clothes and setting them aside.

“Can you be any slower?” Jack grumbled as he pulled Pitch down for a kiss.

“Oh, Jack,” Pitch breathed, a dark look in his eyes, “you have no idea how slow I can be.”

“Fuck,” Jack muttered, eyes rolling into the back of his head as a searing heat engulfed his cock.

+

3)

“I’m going to get you a book. Since you’re done reading about battle axes, I think it’s time you read a book on how to manage OCD.”

“I do not have obsessive compulsive disorder, Jack,” Pitch told him.

“Uh-huh. Pull the other one,” Jack snorted and pointed at Pitch. “Then what do you call that?”

Pitch looked down at the shirt in his hands. “Folding clothes.”

“But you do that every time we’re about to, you know, have sex. Every damn time.”

Pitch exhaled slowly. “That doesn’t mean I have OCD. It just means that I prefer to keep my things neat and organized.”

“Right,” Jack said, unconvinced.

Pitch set his folded clothes in a pile. He heard Jack clear his throat, and he turned towards the bed. He raised an eyebrow at Jack, who was lying there staring at him.

“I’m not getting any younger over here,” Jack huffed, and tapped his fingers on the mattress.

Pitch gave Jack an amused look, recognizing the teasing tone. Jack might act upset, but Pitch knew that deep inside, Jack was amused by his habit.

Deep, deep inside.

+

4)

Jack let out a broken cry as he came into Pitch’s mouth. His knees nearly buckled, and he was grateful for Pitch’s support. Without it, he would have tumbled to the floor.

Pitch withdrew and stood, placing his hands on the hem of his own shirt to tug it off.

“God, no,” Jack said, still breathless. “Can’t you just, keep your clothes on? You take forever folding your clothes.”

“No,” Pitch replied, pulling his shirt off, followed by his pants. His robe had already been discarded on the floor, and he picked that up, too. Jack groaned as he flopped backwards onto the bed, and Pitch hid a smile by holding up his shirt in front of his face as he folded it.

Jack was adorable when he was upset.

+

5)

Pitch dragged his lips away from Jack’s. He took in Jack’s swollen lips, the dazed look in his eyes, and nudged him towards the bed. He was surprised when Jack stayed where he was.

Jack grabbed Pitch’s shirt from the floor and began to fold it. “What?” Jack asked, slightly defensive at Pitch’s stare. “If I help you, the sooner you get it done, and the sooner you can be inside me,” he finished, ducking his head to hide the embarrassed flush.

Pitch almost forgot about the pants he had yet to fold.

Almost.

+

+1)

A week.

That was how long Jack had been gone this time. While Pitch didn’t mind Jack leaving, and even encouraged it, there were times he grew a little worried. Despite knowing that Jack was a powerful frost spirit who was more than capable of defending himself, there came a point when Pitch was anxious to see Jack, to make sure he was okay, to run hands over him, to claim him as his.

Today was no exception.

Pitch was particularly restless. Nothing was helping, not even his journals and meditations. He amused himself by thinking about Jack, wondering what he was doing. And no, Pitch was most certainly not thinking about debauching the frost spirit.

By the time he could sense Jack coming - Jack’s fears always gave him away, _was I gone for too long, God, I lost track of time, I didn’t mean to stay away this long_ \- Pitch could no longer deny the fact that he was hard and wanting a certain frost spirit beneath him. He stood in the middle of the bedroom, faced the window, and waited.

A minute later, Jack flew in through the open window, a huge grin on his face. “Hey, Pitch, I’m back.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than did Pitch cover that same mouth with his own, letting out a small groan. He slid his tongue across Jack’s lips slowly, before nipping lightly at his lower lip. Pitch’s hand raised to Jack’s hair, brushed through the silvery strands, while the other looped around Jack’s middle, drawing him closer.

When Jack was finally released, he stared at Pitch dazed for a moment. “That was...some greeting,” he murmured.

Pitch gave a dark smile before pulling Jack in for another kiss. He slipped his tongue inside of Jack’s mouth, traced the top of his mouth. Jack moaned, hands coming up to fist in Pitch’s robe as he leaned against him. Pitch’s hand traced a line from the back of Jack’s neck down to the hem of his pants. Tugging on them, he took a step back.

“Strip,” Pitch said softly. His eyes darkened as Jack did as he was told, and he undressed, too, quickly ridding himself of his robe and shirt and stepping out of his pants.

Jack settled back on the bed, and Pitch followed a second later, bracketing Jack’s head with his arms as he sucked on Jack’s collarbone.

“Wha-?” Jack tensed, blinked in surprise.

Pitch pulled away just enough to look at Jack. He took stock of Jack’s fear, but it was at its normal baseline. “What?” He asked as he leaned back down and licked a warm stripe up Jack’s neck.

“Um, aren’t you forgetting something?” Jack managed to gasp out.

Reaching over to the nightstand, Pitch grabbed the vial and placed it by Jack’s head. “There.”

“No, that’s not… I mean, yeah, we need that, but that’s- _God_ ,” Jack gasped as Pitch trailed hot fingers over his hipbones and oh, so close, but not close enough. “That’s not what I meant. Your clothes.”

“Jack,” Pitch said, attempting to make sense of what Jack was talking about, “why are you worried about my clothes? I’m currently not wearing any.”

“You didn’t fold them.”

Pitch glanced briefly at the floor, catching sight of his clothing in a heap. They would certainly get wrinkled if he were to leave them there. On the other hand, he had Jack beneath him, flushed and panting. There was no debate. “Fuck it,” he breathed as he leaned down and pushed his lips roughly against Jack’s.

The frost spirit let out a squeak of surprise, muffled as Pitch licked his way into Jack’s mouth. Clothes be damned or wrinkled, Pitch was not going to waste another second.

(Later…)

“I tried to tell you,” Jack said, rubbing a hand soothingly over Pitch’s back.

Pitch said nothing, just stared almost forlornly at his clothing on the floor. With a heavy sigh, he stood and carefully picked up his robe, his shirt, and his pants. All three items were wrinkled. He sighed again.

Jack was silent for a moment. “Hey,” he began slowly, a mischievous tone coloring his voice, “that was pretty nice, actually. You know, not having to wait forever while you obsessively fold your clothes. So how about this. Would it make you feel better if I got you an iron?”

Pitch paused from trying to smooth out the worst of the wrinkles. “No. I don’t need an iron because I fold my clothes.”

Jack made a noise in disagreement, then his face brightened. “Oh, all I have to do is apparently make you really impatient. Like, if I stay away for a week at a time, then you won’t care about your clothes getting wrinkled. Like today.”

Pitch suddenly dropped his shirt and lurched forward, pushing Jack back onto the bed and looming over him. “You would really stay away for a week?” He fairly purred, and he slid a hand sensually down Jack’s chest.

Jack shivered. “Uh, I don’t know. Maybe.”

Pitch nosed at Jack’s neck, flicking out with his tongue to taste the skin. Sweat still clung to Jack, covering him in a thin sheen. “A week without any of this?” His hand wrapped around Jack’s cock, squeezing lightly.

“Oh, God,” Jack choked out, his head falling back against the mattress hard. “Yeah. No. I don’t know.”

Pitch smirked, running his thumb over the head of Jack’s length before pulling away.

“Huh?” Jack blinked and looked up at him.

“I need to fold my clothes,” Pitch informed him, turning away in time to hide a grin. A pillow hit him square in the back.

“Fucking idiot,” Jack muttered.

Pitch just smirked.

A frustrated Jack was indeed a rather adorable Jack, after all.


End file.
